Томас Мур (Thomas Moore)

From “Irish Melodies”. 47. What the Bee Is to the Floweret

    WHAT the bee is to the flowert,
He. — When he looks for honey-dew,
    Through the leaves that close embower it,
          That, my love, I’ll be to you.
    What the bank, with verdure glowing,
She. — Is to waves that wander near,
    Whispering kisses, while they’re going,
          That I’ll be to you, my dear.
    But they say, the bee’s a rover,
She. — Who will fly, when sweets are gone,
    And, when once the kiss is over,
          Faithless brooks will wander on.
    Nay, if flowers will lose their looks
He. — If sunny banks will wear away,
    ’Tis but right that bees and brooks
          Should sip and kiss them, while they may.

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